One of the angels gets thrown our way. His arm grazes me as he whizzes by. I half-spin and stagger, my head accidentally popping out of the oversized jacket.

“What’s that you got there?” the one still standing asks. “There’s still one left?” He swaggers over and grabs for me.

Without warning, Raffe throws a punch into his face, followed by two hits so fast that his fists are almost a blur.

I duck out of the way and step out from his shadow. When the other angel lurches back, Raffe doesn’t follow. He hovers near me.

I’m fully out in the open now. I drop the jacket, step into a defensive stance, and lift my knife in front of me.

Like the previous one, this angel smiles when he sees my blade. He’s up for more of a challenge than squashing an ant. At least this ant has a sharp knife and an attitude.

My back feels exposed but I’ll just have to assume the angels will be more sportsmanlike than to attack from behind while I’m fighting, since this is nothing but sport to them anyway.

Beside me, Raffe is already exchanging blows with an angel. He slams his attacker with the force of a head-on collision.

My own opponent makes the first move. His grin is so wide, you’d think I was cooking up a treat for him.

Males—they’ve all trained against each other. They expect attacks to certain zones on their bodies and from someone who’s used to relying on upper-body strength. And they always, always underestimate women.

Me, I don’t have much upper-body strength, nothing compared to most men, much less these guys. Like many women fighters, my power comes from my hips and legs.

He dives for me, hands out to grab my knife, expecting me to go straight at him.

I duck, crouching with bent knees, letting him almost sail over me.

I leap up at the last second and stab my blade into his crotch with all the force of my springing legs.

Why bother attacking their strengths when you can go straight for their weaknesses?

He rolls around on the sand just like any other guy who gets kicked in the nuts. He’ll heal. But he won’t be breaking taboos anytime soon.

An angel gets tossed past me head first. I spin to see Raffe pummeling the last one. More are coming our way from the crowd, attracted to a good fight.

Raffe looks over at the bloody knife in my hand. “If I still had any doubts that it was you, that would do it.” He gestures toward my opponent rolling on the ground with his hands cradling his package.

“He should have been polite and just let us by,” I say.

“Way to teach him some respect. I always wanted to meet a girl who fights dirty,” says Raffe.